


Puzzle Pieces

by Kestrealbird



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Body Worship, Dorks in Love, Fascination with Breasts, Fluff, Graphic nudity I guess?, Ignis is a Sap, Ignis is so in love, M/M, Trans Male Character, Trans Prompto, and freckles probably, non-sexual nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-10 06:20:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12293112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kestrealbird/pseuds/Kestrealbird
Summary: His stretchmarks look like brush-strokes, as if someone had wanted to paint rivers on his skin. Personally, Ignis would paint the Aurora Borealis to highlight the stars already there.“I’m not a canvas, Ignis,” Prompto whispers.“No,” he looks up with a breathless grin, green eyes glittering with joy, “you’re already a work of art.”





	Puzzle Pieces

**Author's Note:**

> So many people were happy that I was writing this so here's to my peeps on Twitter I hope you're proud of yourselves!

There are a lot of words that Ignis could use to describe Prompto; curious, intelligent, shy, dorky, sweet, caring, brave. But there’s one word which sticks out the most -a single word that feels inadequate but close enough for Ignis to use to describe how he views Prompto, but to Prompto, himself, the word feels foreign and strange, as if he is any less than what Ignis sees with his eyes every day. 

The word Ignis chooses to use doesn't just describe Prompto’s physical aspects -which isn’t to say he  _ isn’t _ attractive because lord knows that when Ignis had first seen him, his mouth had run dry and he’d tripped over his words for the first time since he was ten years of age. No, the word that he finds himself associating with Prompto every day simply encompasses Prompto in his  _ entirety _ , as if this word was created simply to be used on this one man in the whole of Eos.

Noctis calls Ignis a sap; Ignis prefers to be called ‘a realistic romantic of the modern day’, but that’s too long a title, so he’s stuck being called ‘sap’ or, on a particularly generous afternoon -and it’s always an afternoon because otherwise Noctis is too tired to properly word his thoughts- he’s called ‘an absolute goner’. He begrudgingly admits that it’s true, but can anyone blame him when Prompto skips into a room and immediately gains the favour of everyone there? 

Only heathens and assholes would ever be anything but civil with him. There’s a lot more of those people in existence than Ignis -and Gladio and Noctis- are entirely happy with.

Gladio likes to say that Ignis is ‘whipped’, which is something he always denies, but he knows is undeniably true. He still gets embarrassed when he remembers the time he’d abandoned a meeting just to visit Prompto at his home, because his boyfriend had developed a slight cough and all he’d heard was ‘sick’ and ‘took his medicine’. Gladio has never let him live it down and Prompto teases him for it now and then, when he’s in a particular mood.

Prompto makes mistakes just like anyone else, and he’s quick to accept that the mistake happened and learn how to fix it or make sure it doesn't happen again. 

He’s afraid of many things, and he’s always open about said fears, which is a relief for them because it’s  _ nice _ having someone around who isn’t fussed about voicing everyone’s worries out loud, and cursing up a storm when things go wrong. It’s oddly refreshing to hear him yell “Motherfucker!” when a Cockatrice destroys the only bridge they had to safely get down, because the three of them have been raised to be polite, which means learning to be  _ inventive _ with their curses and insults. 

Nothing they come up with can quite compare to a hissed out “son of a  _ bitch _ ” no matter how hard they try, though. 

Prompto is kind and selfless and caring and a bit naive at times, but he’s also got a mean streak in him, and enjoys making people believe that he’s weaker, less intelligent and prone to more mistakes than the others in their group. He told them, once, that he enjoys seeing people’s reactions when these assumptions and stereotypes are proved incorrect, because it’s satisfying when someone who had talked down to him, insulted him and belittled him, ends up surviving  _ because of him _ . 

It is, perhaps, a little cruel, a little sadistic, but it’s also incredibly funny to watch and Gladio particularly enjoys it when Prompto -the little technophile that he is- ends up doing temporary fixes on cars, trucks and motorbikes until Cindy or some other mechanic can come out and do a proper job.

(Cid had joked, once, that he might kidnap Prompto and force him to work at Hammerhead for the rest of his life. Noctis still looks at him with suspicion, even if he knows Cid isn’t serious about the idea.)

Noctis prefers when they see just how  _ insane _ he is on the battlefield, because nobody else -aside from them, of course, because they wouldn’t be a team otherwise- can really keep up with Prompto’s stunts and ideas, and his on-the-fly strategies that he has no time to properly explain but they trust in them anyways.

Ignis doesn't have a specific preference, but he does enjoy seeing Prompto pin someone to the ground and shove a gun against their head. 

There are many different puzzle pieces that make up who Prompto is, and Ignis has yet to see  _ all of them _ , which, in his opinion, is what makes Prompto such an interesting and enjoyable person to be around. He keeps Ignis on his toes; stops him from getting bored or following the same drab routine everyday. He adds  _ flavour _ into Ignis’ life, and lets Ignis be a nerd who can quote every Star Wars movie back to front, and who enjoys laying on the sofa in a pair of old trousers, watching cartoons and eating chow-mein. 

But there’s one puzzle piece Ignis has only seen glimpses of, yet never managed to catch the whole picture. 

He’s never seen Prompto naked before. 

In fact, there’s a lot of skin that Prompto has simply never shown around him, and he’s okay with that, really, because above everything he wants Prompto to feel comfortable and  _ safe _ around him, so he refuses to badger him about it, or to try and sneak peeks of skin when he knows Prompto is bathing or changing his clothes. 

He has more respect for his boyfriend’s privacy then that. 

The thing is, Ignis  _ knows _ why Prompto hasn’t shown off his body to him, and he can’t say he completely understands what his boyfriend is going through, because he’s never been in that situation before, and he can only guess what Prompto might be feeling based on what Ignis has heard or read online. He doesn’t pretend to be an expert on Prompto’s body issues or emotions, because he knows he isn’t, but that doesn’t mean he won’t listen to Prompto’s worries and fears. It doesn't mean he won't be supportive and loving, because that will never change. 

It just means that when he walks into the room he and Prompto have rented for the night -because they had extra money so they may as well have and Gladio was camping out with Iris and Noctis had picked up one of the local men to have a night of fun with- he doesn’t expect to see his lover sitting on the bed, completely naked save for a fluffy dressing gown around his shoulders, nervously playing with his hair and looking like he might curl up into non-existence at any moment, as if what he’s doing right now is a mistake of some sort.

Ignis finds himself freezing on the spot, blinking owlishly at Prompto, his brain short-circuiting at the unexpectedness of it all. 

Prompto ducks his head and whispers, “hi”.

There’s a lot of things Ignis wants to say right now. 

He remembers, a few years ago, Prompto admitting that one of his biggest fears was that if Ignis saw him naked, he’d decide that Prompto wasn’t “man enough” for him, and he’d dump him then and there simply because Ignis was gay. Which was completely absurd, because gender wasn’t defined by what genitals you were born with, and Prompto had always been a man in Ignis’ eyes. 

He wanted to say as much -he had the whole emotional speech planned out in his head and everything, complete with a pun just to see Prompto smile, but instead of that  _ incredible _ masterpiece he had planned out in his brain, all that he manages to say is, “my god you’re gorgeous.”

A blush spreads across Prompto’s face, and he makes an embarrassed sound, trying to obscure himself with his hair. Its honestly adorable.

Ignis has used that word to describe him plenty of times before, but Prompto has never really taken him seriously. Ignis couldn't possibly think him gorgeous, when there was so much skin he left hidden. 

Now, though, with only a dressing gown to keep himself warm, and his body bared for Ignis’ viewing pleasure like this, there’s no denying that he truly means it -has always meant it- when he says, “you’re gorgeous.”

But Ignis can tell that Prompto is still unsure about this -it’s a huge leap to take and he can practically hear his boyfriends anxious thoughts beginning to take a downward spiral, so he locks the main door, and strips down to just his shirt and trousers, padding quietly to the bed and sitting on the edge, leaning forward to bump their foreheads together, and Prompto relaxes immediately. 

Ignis keeps his eyes closed, just in case, even though every fibre of his being wants to take in all these new details and commit them to memory, in case he never gets another chance like this. He’s content with whatever Prompto is comfortable giving him. 

He asks, “are you uncomfortable?” 

Prompto shrugs, not knowing how to voice his own thoughts, and whispers, instead, “you can look if you want to.”

He does want to. He’s desperate to look, because he knows Prompto is gorgeous -always has been- and he wants to  _ prove that _ by showering his lover in all the affection he can give. 

But Prompto’s comfort comes first, just like it always has. It’s why they work so well together, because consent is always there, and they look after each other’s needs, never pressuring for more than what the other is comfortable with. They’ve tested those boundaries, yes, sometimes even stretched them, but they’ve never purposefully overstepped a line, and if they do they’re quick to back up and make up for it in whatever way they can. 

Prompto has stressed, before, that he  _ does _ wish to have sex at some point, and Ignis is content to wait for Prompto’s permission. Even if his lover had no desire for such affections, Ignis wouldn’t be all that fussed; sex is nice, but it isn’t what keeps their relationship going strong. It’s more of a bonus, really.

His voice is firm, yet quiet, comforting. “Only if you’re sure,” he replies.

Prompto thinks it over for a few minutes, intertwining their fingers together and playing with the cuffs of Ignis’ shirt sleeves. He takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly, and leans back ever so slightly, just enough that the dressing gown falls open, and, with complete finality, he says, “I do.”

When Ignis opens his eyes the first thing he does is search Prompto’s face, because he has a habit of saying things he doesn't mean to please other people, but all he sees is a stubborn sense of trust that never fails to make his cheeks flush and heart stutter. Prompto’s trust is a lot harder to earn than people realize; he wears his heart on his sleeve, but it’s the same sleeve he uses to conceal the gun in his hand with bullets made of poison. 

His  _ point _ is that seeing this trust directed at him means more than he can ever describe.

There’s a lot of people in the world who would use this opportunity to look at Prompto’s breasts or nether regions first -he uses those terms because ‘boobs’ and ‘tits’ sound too crass for his mouth, and he doesn’t know what terminology Prompto is comfortable with for his... _ other _ genitalia- but Ignis does neither of those things. 

He looks at Prompto’s stomach and he makes a noise of awe. “You have freckles on your tummy.” 

His comment startles a laugh out of Prompto, who moves into a more comfortable position, and parts his dressing gown so Ignis can see  _ everything _ . In response, Ignis gets on his hands and knees, leaning closer to Prompto’s tummy to see if he can count how many freckles there are. He doesn’t notice the look of utter adoration on Prompto’s face, but he does feel fingers gently threading through his hair, combing out the tangles formed by the wind. 

“I have them pretty much everywhere,” Prompto says, smiling, amused.

Ignis tilts his head, curiously. “Can I touch them?”

Prompto nods, and giggles when fingers tap his sides, counting the stars etched onto his skin and he just  _ knows _ that Ignis is dork enough to name the constellations he can see. 

His fingers ghost over the cluster of freckles on Prompto’s hip, his smile widening with a childish glee, and he can’t stop himself from placing a chaste kiss over his boyfriend’s naval, delighting in the snort of laughter from above him. 

Prompto has muscle on his arms and legs, but the rest of his body is only slightly toned, with a softness left over from his weight as a child. His stretchmarks look like brush-strokes, as if someone had wanted to paint rivers on his skin. Personally, Ignis would paint the Aurora Borealis to highlight the stars already there. 

“I’m not a canvas, Ignis,” Prompto whispers.

“No,” he looks up with a breathless grin, green eyes glittering with joy, “you’re already a work of art.” 

Prompto covers his face with his hands, and falls back onto the bed with laughter. “Oh my god,” he gasps, “you are the biggest  _ nerd _ .”

Ignis lays beside him, his head propped up on his hand, and resists his sudden urge to braid Prompto’s  _ incredibly _ soft hair.

He wasn’t lying when he said he had freckles everywhere. There’s a few dotted down his legs, some paler and smaller than the rest, almost unnoticeable, and there’s three freckles that form an upside down triangle between his breasts. The third freckle -the one that makes the point of the triangle- is small and dark. Ignis presses his finger against it, marvelling at the feel of breasts brushing against his hand. 

“They’re like non-squidgy marshmallows.” 

Prompto blankly stares at him. “You,” he says, slowly, “are very lucky that I love you.”

Ignis blushes. “I’m not  _ lying _ ,” he mutters. 

Prompto looks up at the ceiling. He can’t believe he actually loves this nerd, sometimes. “Non-squidgy marshmallows aren’t a  _ thing _ , Iggy. My boobs can still be squished.”

“Exactly,” Ignis nods, like he’s just won an amazing argument, “they can be  _ squished _ not  _ squidged _ . There’s a difference,” he sniffs.

Prompto gives him a  _ look _ . “No, there really isn’t.”

Ignis sits up, scowling, and cracks his neck. Prompto leans up on his elbows with narrowed eyes, daring him to say something.

“Squidging,” he stresses, “is something you do to marshmallows or gummy bears. Squishing, on the other hand, is a much cuter sensation that you get when you smoosh someone’s cheeks or hug a soft toy as tight as you can.” He huffs, crossing his arms, “there’s a difference.”

Prompto  _ could _ argue with him about this. He could, but he isn’t going to. They’ve had pettier arguments than this in the past, and one time they stopped talking to each other for an hour because they couldn’t decide if scrambled or boiled eggs were better for breakfast. 

Instead, because he’s a sly boyfriend who wants to make Ignis’ brain shut down again, he says, “then squeeze them and tell me if they squidge or squish, based on  _ your _ observations.” 

Ignis freezes and his face explodes into colour. He collapses onto the bed with a whine, curling up into a ball. Prompto pats his head. 

“Really? You can suck dick and leave hickeys all over my neck but you can’t touch my boobs?” 

Ignis glares at him from under his hair. “They’re  _ sacred _ ,” he hisses. 

Prompto sighs, shaking his head, and then an unusual thought strikes him. The more he considers the possibility, the more  _ Ignis _ it sounds, and he’s honestly surprised he didn’t consider it before. “Ignis are you...afraid of squeezing them too hard?”

Ignis scrambles back, almost falling off the edge of the bed, and squeaks out, “that’s not -I don't- of course not!”

He’s absolutely terrified of squeezing them too hard.

He has a good reason to be, Ignis thinks, because he’s  _ strong _ -as in he can pick Prompto up with one hand strong and benchpress Gladio if he really wants to- so he is  _ absolutely _ thinking about what would happen if he squeezed too hard and they ended up bruised, or what if he  _ popped _ them or something!? Prompto  _ loves _ his breasts, so Ignis doesn't want to be  _ that guy _ and accidentally damage them to the point he needs to get rid of them. 

And yes he’s completely aware of how dumb and illogical that sounds, but he also doesn't care because horror films are terrifying and they’re 90% the reason he’s so nervous about this right now. Breasts always get horrible treatment in those films. 

He doesn't mind  _ looking _ at them -maybe even having the occasional touch if he feels particularly daring- but he  _ refuses _ to cup a good feel of them and possibly be amazed by how his fingers sink into the skin.

Prompto, evidently, has other ideas, because while Ignis is having a very  _ mild _ breakdown, he shimmies forward, grabs Ignis’ hands and places them over his breasts, keeping them in place by holding Ignis’ wrists. Ignis tries to keep his hands open, to be an absolute gentleman or whatever, but Prompto simply moves forward so he’s straddling Iggy’s lap and presses those hands firmer against his breasts.

Ignis gives them a gentle, experimental squeeze, and suddenly it feels like his whole world has been missing this experience. Prompto’s breasts aren't large but they’re not particularly small either, and they fit almost perfectly in his hands. He says ‘almost’ because his fingers are rather long. They feel  _ amazing _ . They don't squidge or squish beneath his fingers, they simply mould themselves the same way Prompto’s thighs do. And they’re  _ soft _ . 

His breasts are dotted with light freckles and his nipples don’t feel any different to Ignis’ own.

“Your nipples are the same as mine,” he whispers, like he’s just discovered the world’s greatest secret and he’s afraid of someone else overhearing him and spreading it around. 

“Nipples are nipples, Iggy. They’re the same for everyone.” This is, objectively, the weirdest experience Prompto has ever had, but it’s also the sweetest. Ignis isn’t aroused by this -Prompto’s checked just out of curiosity- he’s simply amazed and curious about it all. It’s an innocent admiration of the body in front of him, and he grins widely, hugging Prompto tightly because he’s just so  _ soft _ . “Most people would get aroused you know.”

“In all honesty I’ll probably get aroused by all this later on, but right now it feels like I’ve been shown a sacred temple so all I want to do is learn it’s secrets and worship you for the next three hours.” He pauses, oblivious to how flustered Prompto very suddenly is, and nods to himself. “Especially your breasts. Breasts should be worshipped by everyone. They’re amazing and I’m jealous. Do you touch them yourself?” 

He sounds so genuinely giddy and curious that Prompto squeaks out, “most people with boobs like to touch them.”

Ignis moves them up to the pillows and lays down, spooning Prompto as he hums, processing this new information. He ignores the feel of naked breasts pressing against his chest through a shirt -or, at least, he tries to, but it’s such an extravagant feeling to him, that he wonders if this is when the angels will descend from Heaven, singing and playing the trumpets, informing him that he’s passed on to the other plane of existence because he feels so excited he could probably die right here and now. 

“...why did you think our nipples would be different anyway?” Prompto’s voice is muffled, and he sounds tired. Not tired like he’s sleepy, but the kind of tired he gets after a bunch of anxiety has left his body and his emotions aren't as all over the place as before. He sounds tired, but he also sounds  _ content _ . Happy. 

Ignis shrugs. He really doesn’t know, but it had sounded right at the time. 

In his mind, he can see all those missing puzzle pieces filling in the empty spaces in the same way a Cheshire Cat will slowly appear before you.

God, he loves Prompto. 

They’re silent for a long time. Ignis starts stroking circles into his lover’s back, humming a quiet moan when he feels kisses against throat. He lets himself be rolled onto his back, hands spread out on Prompto’s stomach. They don’t plan on doing anything, but the love in their eyes as they look at each other is almost sickening to think about. 

Noctis would gag if he could see them now.

Prompto slips Ignis’ glasses off his face, and places them on his own nose with a giggle. He can’t see through them because they have different prescriptions, but he likes to joke that he can see Tenebrae with them. Ignis pouts. 

“I can’t see you without them.” Prompto smiles at him, leaning down to rub their noses together.

“Can you see me now?” Ignis reaches up to place some hair behind Prompto’s ear, and the kiss they share is slow and tender. It’s mostly just them smiling and holding each other close. 

They break apart with whispered words of love, and Prompto maneuvers them so he’s sitting on the pillows, legs parted, and Ignis is laying between them, using his thigh as a pillow. Ignis is given back his glasses, and when he looks up at Prompto’s nether regions, his face goes blank.

“It’s called a Clitoris, Iggy,” Prompto snickers, because he’s an asshole.

“I know what it is,” Ignis scowls, “I just don't know what to  _ do _ with it.”

It’s not that he hasn’t had a sexual education, it’s just that he’s never really bothered to learn about this type of genitalia before, because he’d never considered the possibility of having a boyfriend like Prompto. He regrets not paying more attention back then.

Prompto shakes with suppressed laughter, and Ignis glares at him. “It’s not as hard to pleasure as it seems,” he explains.

Ignis looks at Prompto incredulously. “It’s like a  _ Rubix Cube _ .”

He laughs so hard that he collapses against Ignis, tears rolling down his face. “Don’t worry,” he wheezes, “if you can solve those then I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it!”

He _ really _ wanted to push Prompto off the bed right now. It was so tempting. 

Ignis bristles, blushing. “It’s not  _ my _ fault I never paid attention in class.”

“There’s so much wrong with that statement dude.” Prompto grins up at him, eyes shining, and Ignis can’t help it when he feels his annoyance fade away. He really does have it bad. “Seriously though,” he says, straightening up, “please tell me you know the difference between the Urethra and the Vagina.”

Ignis gives him a confused stare. “What?”

Prompto blinks. “You know what?” He drags Ignis back down onto the bed, nuzzling against him with a sigh, “we can deal with that later. I’m tired, you’re still processing all of this new information, so let’s just...rest tonight, yeah?”

“Yeah. I can deal with that.” 

It doesn't take long for Prompto to drift off in his arms, golden hair spilling over his freckled shoulders like sunbeams. Their legs are tangled together, and when they wake up they’ll probably be a mess of limbs, and Ignis’ hands will be knotted in Prompto’s hair, and his shirt will be all wrinkled and need a good ironing in the morning.. They wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Ignis lays still for a long while, simply marvelling at how lucky he is to have Prompto in his life, and when his glasses are placed on the bed-side drawers, and the lights turn off with a clap of his hands, the last thing Ignis thinks about before falling asleep is how much he’s going to pamper Prompto once he figures out how that last puzzle piece works.

**Author's Note:**

> I, myself, am not Transgender so I wasn't confident with writing this from Prompto's POV hence why I used Ignis instead. Personally I think it suited the tone I was going for a lot better and I hope you all enjoyed reading Ignis being an absolute nerd


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